


Frozen to the Cor

by Haprilona



Series: Tales of the Immortal and the Glacian [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haprilona/pseuds/Haprilona
Summary: Gentiana’s paying a visit to King Regis, but he’s not the only one she sees during her stay. Takes place a year before Lunafreya’s birth.





	Frozen to the Cor

“-you haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

Cor scoffed. “I merely choose to focus on doing my job.”

Clarus arched a brow at that. Standard guard duty was below both of their station, but the Immortal had – for reasons beyond the King’s Shield’s comprehension – specifically requested to stand watch outside the audience chamber for the afternoon. “Because standing guard in an empty hall takes every ounce of your concentration.”

Cor ignored the older man’s comment and fixed his gaze on one of the detailed oil paintings hanging from the wall of Hall of History, belatedly realising the picture of his focus was none other than the famed _Genesis_. Involuntarily his steely blue eyes were drawn to the image of a fair woman perched on a fluffy cloud between a surly dark-skinned man and a bearded male with kind eyes. The woman looked nothing like whom she was supposed to represent; the skin wasn’t blue enough, the hair was too short and _ordinary_ and her elegant pointed ears were nowhere to be seen. The only detail the artist had managed to get right was her lack of clothing.

Focusing on his duties – and Clarus’ chatter – was getting increasingly difficult knowing the woman in question was separated from him only by measly wooden double doors. Merely closing his eyes for a moment was enough to summon a memory of chilly fingertips tracing the scar on his chest. It didn’t matter that he had eyes wide open and ears perked for any suspicious activity outside the hall, the sensations from their last night together from two years ago had reawakened and now clouded his senses to the point he couldn’t quite distinguish what was real and what a daydream from the past.

Brushing the foolish musings aside, Cor blearily blinked at the painting and silently swore when he thought he saw the painted figure of Shiva turn her head ever so slightly to the side to expose her vulnerable neck to him, while the hand hovering over her left breast tantalizingly trailed the rosy skin in a teasing invitation. The 20-year-old man could feel blood warming the tips of his ears and forcefully willed the image of a very naked Astral out of his mind. Such thoughts bordered on blasphemy. Fortunately Clarus blocked his view on the painting, instantly snapping the young member of Crownsguard from his daydream.

“Should I make an appointment to the physician for you? You’ve been acting strangely and look a little feverish.” Dark brows furrowed in worry, casting shadows over the King’s Shield’s expressive blue eyes.

“No, I’m fine.” And he _was_. If only a little distracted.

Paying no mind to Clarus’ dubious frown, Cor focused on listening to the muffled voices coming from the next room. Besides King Regis’ warm yet authoritative timbre, he could hear the soft voice of a woman with an accent of which origins he couldn’t place anywhere in Eos. It was a voice he could recognise even among a crowd of thousands, for the way she spoke was like no other; her infinite patience ensured she never raised her voice or expressed any hint of anger or irritation, and while some may have claimed she spoke monotonously, he found her mild tone to be calming. He particularly liked the sound of his title coming from her painted lips.

Eyes hardening when realising his mind wandered yet again, Cor restlessly shifted his weight before swatting Clarus’ pestering palm away from his forehead with a glare.

“Really, Amicitia. I just skipped my morning coffee. I’m fine.” He hadn’t appreciated his companions’ unnecessary fussing when he had enlisted to the Crownsguard at the tender age of thirteen, he sure as hell didn’t appreciate it now as an adult.

Before the older man could continue the inane argument, the heavy wooden double doors opened. Instantly both men stood at attention, spines straight and tense. Followed by a clicking of high heels, a willowy figure of a woman clad in black emerged from the audience chamber. The familiar alluring scent of blueberries was enough to make Cor feel faint. She stopped before them once the doors were closed behind her and turned to address the men, expression serene even as her eyes remained hidden behind pink lids. Only the few long carpets covering the recently waxed floor of the Hall of History lessened the echo of her silvery voice.

“Master Amicitia.”

“My lady.” Clarus politely acknowledged her with a half-bow.

Eyelids framed by dark lashes opened to reveal moss green eyes that immediately fixed on the young guard. Heart hammering against his ribcage, Cor swallowed heavily and stared at the bridge of her slim nose in an attempt to keep himself composed. There was something about those mesmerising eyes that unerringly made his knees buckle under their sultry gaze, however with Clarus watching Cor couldn’t afford to show such weakness. He had worked so hard to get to where he was. If everything went according to plan, he would be promoted to a Lieutenant the coming year.

“Ah, and the Immortal himself. He has grown much since our first meeting near the Tempering Grounds. It is delightful to see him once more.” Cor didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eye even as the painted lips curved to a misleadingly pleasant smile.

“Likewise”, was his curt reply, followed by a chaste kiss on the back of her offered gloveless hand. He let go of it to resume his post, but the Messenger had other ideas and looped her arm around his.

“I was led to believe by the king that the guard posted outside would escort me to my temporary quarters.”

“Oh.” The young soldier cast a questioning glance to his superior who nodded his assent. “Very well.”

They walked down the corridor in relative silence, her stilettos and his red-soled boots stepping on carpets and marble floor in synchronised harmony. At this proximity he could effortlessly distinguish the faint fragrance of fresh pinewood blending with her more prominent scent of blueberry shampoo. She was exactly how Cor remembered her from two years ago when he had been fighting at the Lucian border against the invading Niffs.

His sheathed katana lightly bumped against her hip as they took a turn.

“It is pleasing to see the Immortal still carries the blade gifted to him five years ago.”

“I’d be a fool to reject a weapon received from a divine spirit.”

Pleased with his words, Gentiana’s eyes crinkled with barely concealed joy and she lifted her satin encased hand to join the other one around his arm. Both elated and burdened by her affectionate gesture, Cor cleared his throat and continued to lead the charming woman.

He would never understand what the immortal being saw in a mere mortal such as him. Only fifteen years of age during their first meeting, he had escaped the Tempering Grounds in disgrace, unarmed and wounded. The kind, inhumanly beautiful spirit had tended to his wounds and given the Kotetsu he carried on his person to this day. It had no enhancements and wasn’t a technological achievement like Cid’s modified weapons, but its blade was sharp and the weapon’s balance fit his fighting style like a glove. It had yet to fail him in a battle and he doubted it ever would.

Throughout the next year Cor had caught brief glimpses of a dark-clad woman from the corner of his eye or a fleeting tranquil smile on a reflective surface. On the off-chance that Weskham or Clarus happened to snap a photo of him, they would often see a distant feminine figure in the background watching over him. Suffice to say Regis had been deeply puzzled by the strange phenomenon.

_“I recognise her from the Cosmogony’s illustrations. It is the Messenger of the gods – Gentiana. Seems you have left quite the impression on her.”_

Cor had been quick to brush such implausible speculations aside. However, a year later the two crossed paths again briefly, and while there was hardly anything romantic about the setting or timing, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sort of pull towards the ageless entity. At first the youngest member of the Crownsguard figured it was merely a subconscious desire to protect her, perhaps as a way to pay back the imaginary debt he believed owing to the Messenger. Except, one day he caught himself snapping photos of random sceneries and taking self-portraits in hopes of finding her gentle smile in the background.

Angry for not being able to shake off the baseless attraction, Cor had eagerly requested to be sent to the frontlines to distract himself from such unholy fantasies. Of course, that was merely an excuse to be at the brunt of Niflheim’s invasion. There was still the matter of tending to his wounded pride that had received a near fatal blow during his duel with Gilgamesh. He needed to redeem himself in his own eyes, if not in his liege’s – His Highness had always been too forgiving and gentle when Cor’s failures were concerned, most likely due to the soldier’s young age.

Unfortunately the Galahdan saying ‘ _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ ’ seemed to apply to him more strongly than anticipated. Three years after their first meeting he was surrounded by Niff forces while covering his liege’s retreat and – if he was completely honest with himself – would have most likely perished if it wasn’t for Gentiana’s interference. After the battle one thing led to another and he found himself romantically involved with an Astral of all things. The more he thought about it, the less sense the whole affair made, but the ageless temptress had several _very_ effective ways of muddling his logical thought.

When Cor had tried to point out his inevitable death and the heartbreak that might follow, she had merely trailed a light blue finger across the scar received from Gilgamesh and told him she wished to enjoy each fleeting joy life had to offer, whether it be the singing of a short-lived bird or the warmth of an equally short-lived mortal’s embrace. At that Cor was rendered speechless, but Gentiana had seemed fine with his silence and kept on exploring every inch of his shivering body.

Now two years later with nary a word exchanged, Cor was baffled to find his body responding to her closeness in equal fervour to their last night together. He couldn’t quite decide if he liked the sensation, similar to that of a glowing fire suffusing him.

 _‘Well. If I spontaneously combust, at least she'll be around to quench the flames’_ , Cor thought as a sardonic smirk threatened to curve his thin lips.

As they made a turn to pass through the royal gardens, he noticed Gentiana had shifted to walk closer to him, hip brushing against hip while her satin covered hands subtly massaged his arm. Thanks to the thick material of his Crownsguard uniform, Cor couldn’t really feel the sensual touch and was both relieved and disappointed.

Gentiana pulled them to a stop and removed her hands from his arm. “The king granted me permission to pick a flower from his garden as a sign of gratitude for conveying the will of Bahamut.”

“Seems a little cheap”, Cor muttered under his breath, but Gentiana heard him and chuckled as she knelt in front of the closest flowerbed.

“He offered me anything my heart desired as long as it was within his power to give, but unfortunately my wish is something I cannot have.” Moss green eyes cast a sly glance over her shoulder, making her escort fidget his hands in discomfort. Cor didn’t dare to make any assumptions, yet he couldn’t help but wonder what stood in the way of her desire. “Instead, I asked to be allowed to part with one of his flowers.”

Rising back on her feet, the ever present smile gracing her pink lips, Gentiana turned to face him. “Does the Immortal like flowers?”

 _‘Just the namesake of one’_ , Cor thought as he peered down into her glinting eyes and was pleased to note he now stood a good head taller than her compared to the previous times he had been looking _up_ to her. Reaper damned heels and late growth spurts. “Sure, I guess.”

“Then I ask he choose one for me.”

Frowning, Cor surveyed the flowerbeds. Countless flowers in different shades of white, red, yellow and violet littered the garden, but none of them were what he was looking for. He could feel Gentiana’s amused gaze following his every step as he searched for a particular flower. Aesthetic flora had never really piqued his interest. Only herbs and such used in making curatives were worth the time investing in learning their names and characteristics, which was how he first came across a gentiana. According to the ‘ _Pharmacological Flora_ ’ they were used in herbal medicine to treat digestive problems, fever, hypertension, muscle spasms, wounds and even parasitic worms. Both beautiful and practical. Cor sneaked a glance towards the still woman who waited patiently for his decision before quickly returning to scour the garden.

Finally his steely blue eyes settled on a small flowerbed with blue trumpet-shaped blossoms. Carefully he picked the biggest and most vibrant sample. Only the best would do, Cor was certain his liege would agree. Gentiana accepted the flower with a knowing smile.

“The Immortal’s actions speak louder than his words.”

Feigning ignorance, the soldier crossed his arms in defiance. “Not sure what you’re implying.”

A thin coating of ice covered the flower, encasing it like one of those snow globes he had seen in the windows of tourist shops. It wasn’t just an ugly blob of ice such as one could find in the nature, but beautifully sculptured like the most prized crystal. She closed her eyes and chanted something in an unknown language before handing the frozen flower to him.

“Should the Immortal ever falter on his life-long journey, he need not but glance at the frozen gentiana to regain his vigour.”

Cor fingered the flower in wonder. The ice wasn’t as cold as he had expected and it didn’t appear to melt between his warm hands. “You’re making it sound like I won’t be seeing you again.”

Closed lids opened to reveal her wistful green gaze. “The Oracle is expecting a child who will succeed her at a young age. The Messenger’s destiny is tied with the Chosen King’s respective oracle.”

“So, you’re moving to Tenebrae?”

She nodded. “Our meetings have been rare and brief, but I’ve come to treasure each fleeting moment. Once the Chosen King is born, so shall the Immortal have his hands full fulfilling his duty to his king.”

Cor pocketed the flower and boldly took her delicate hands in his. “Be that as it may, I’d still make time for you.”

Slim fingers interlaced with his and her fair features lit up in a smile that warmed him more than the summer heat ever could. “Then we shall meet again, whether it be in another two years or two decades.”

A faint smile graced the taciturn soldier’s serious features, his customary piercing glare softening as his gaze dropped from hers to the invitingly plump lips. Inhaling her seductive scent and losing himself in the tender moment, Cor dipped his head down to capture the soft, pink lips in a gentle kiss. Her response was immediate; she removed her hands from his and let the smooth satin caress the nape of his neck and the newly grown stubble while her lips eagerly moved against his.

Calloused hands fumbled for the choker that hid her pale throat from him. She instinctively arched her neck in submission, granting access for the tip of his nose to teasingly caress her vulnerable skin. A surge of passion rushed through Cor’s entire being when his lips found the woman’s quickened pulse. He was amazed how willingly the immortal entity was ready to place her trust so fully in a flawed man such as him. Gentiana’s trust was even more precious to him than the katana and the enchanted flower she had given to him with the intention of protecting him, knowing full well how easily mortal lives could be snuffed out.

Realising the royal garden was not the right place for such intimate acts, Cor regretfully pulled his warm, swollen lips away from his lover’s neck. Steam blew out of his nostrils as he exhaled. He had learnt years ago that Gentiana’s kisses tended to leave him with a cold breath, but the minor discomfort only made him crave for the contact all the more.

Her pink lids remained closed even after he stepped away from the Messenger’s embrace.  The serene smile was gone, replaced by the smallest of pouts. “Is it a common occurrence within the Citadel for the guard to get so distracted when escorting a guest to her quarters?”

Rolling his eyes, Cor pecked her on the cheek before offering his arm to her once more. “Not my fault our esteemed guest is a shameless enchantress.”

* * *

They sat on cushions by the hearth, bathed in its dim light. Gentiana’s thigh-high stilettos leant against the door of Cor’s quarters next to his own Crownsguard’s boots, while her white shawl and black satin gloves had been discarded over the back of a chair. Cor had changed out of his uniform in favour of something more comfortable and casual as it turned out the Messenger had requested more than a mere flower from the king of Lucis.

“I can’t believe you asked His Majesty to grant me the rest of the day off. I’m beginning to think you had all of this planned out from the start”, Cor mumbled and buried his lips in her raven locks. Knowing Gentiana was a clairvoyant, he wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be true. The only response he received from the content woman was one slim finger lightly tickling the arm that held her lithe body snuggly against his, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

The weight of her head on his shoulder and the sweet scent of her perfume invading his nostrils felt like… home – as if she was made to be nestled beneath his arms. Or considering who existed first, perhaps _he_ was made for _her_ and that was why the divine spirit had been so adamant to get involved in his life. Gentiana’s mere proximity was turning him into a lovelorn fool. Shaking his head in exasperation, Cor removed his other arm from her hip and let it trail down the shapely stocking-clad thigh. She stirred under his sensuous touch and pulled her lidded gaze from the glow of dying embers to study his face.

“Yes.”

The off-duty soldier frowned, puzzled. “What?”

His breath hitched when he saw her eyes dilate with desire, the splash of maroon surrounding her pupils becoming more prominent.

“When witnessing the young Lucian warrior escaping the wrath of the Blademaster, it was revealed he would become someone special to me.” Cor was so distracted by the sudden change in Gentiana’s tone and body language that he nearly missed her softly uttered last words.

“Ah.”

Neither of them were exactly sentimental or direct when it came down to their deepest feelings, so hearing her unexpected confession felt as impactful as one would have felt hearing a gasped “I love you” in the throes of passion.

Gentiana shifted in his arms and pulled his head down to indulge in a heated kiss. Their mouths wrestled for dominance with neither participant willing to compromise. Her cool fingers disappeared beneath his shirt, travelling up and down the athletic upper body. Instantly recognising the game and not wishing to finish second, Cor began to work on undoing her elegantly embroidered corset. It came off easily enough, but his lover had already stripped him from his shirt. With a frustrated growl, he began to work on removing her dress only to halt when his fingers found an edge of something hard beneath the expensive fabric.

Lips still locked, his query came out as an incoherent rumble in the back of his throat. Gentiana pulled back, cheeks slightly flushed and fingers tangled in his short brown hair before casting a curious glance down to her breast where his hand touched the foreign object. Looping her arms out of the fur-trimmed sleeves, the dress fell off her body to reveal a risqué bra made of silver. Cor instantly recognised it as the ‘outfit’ – and he uses the term _very_ loosely – that Shiva wore. The cups of the bra had detailed, decorative carvings and the strings that held the flimsy piece of undergarments together were threaded with blue and silver beads.

“I see you’re still wearing that”, he managed to say.

Gentiana arched an eyebrow and shifted in his lap. “Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. Just strange seeing you in it.”

Frost began to spread all over her body, altering the fair skin into pale blue while her remaining black stockings faded into white, barely noticeable snowflake patterns that covered the full length of her shapely legs. Her jet-black hair morphed into thick, light blue braids that twisted into a hairstyle Cor doubted he’d be seeing on any sane human during his lifetime. Unmelting spikes of ice poked between her hairs to form a crown of sorts. Around her neck was a choker made of silver and on her leaf-shaped ear was a matching earring. She wore similarly themed anklets and spiked silver knuckle-guards. What Cor considered to be the only pieces of proper clothing on her were transparent ribbons that floated around her as if suspended in zero gravity.

Cor had seen her in this form before, yet he couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled and out of his depth as the ice goddess gently pushed him to lie on his back and straddled him, the unnaturally braided hair framing her inhumanly flawless face.

“It does not matter which form wears the cloth. It is still the same person”, she spoke quietly.

Swallowing his remark about silver undergarments not qualifying as cloth, Cor experimentally lifted his hand to cradle her cool cheek and smiled faintly when Shiva closed her dark purple eyes and leant into his touch. She was definitely the same. Messenger, Astral… Messenger possessed by an Astral. It didn’t matter to him. As far as Cor was concerned, she was one and the same and he worshipped every aspect of her.

He surprised the off-guard woman by pulling her down to his chest and rolling over to lie on top. Dazedly the Glacian peered up in his hooded eyes, emotions rapidly flickering in her pupilless eyes. She appeared almost… vulnerable. Deciding to set her unfounded fears to rest, Cor pressed his lips against her chilly, blue ones. The young soldier was so caught in the exhilarating feeling of her hands roaming over his skin and the overpoweringly numbing cold of her kiss that he didn’t notice when the rest of his clothes were removed or when she slipped off her silver undergarments. For appearing so flimsy and unpractical, they turned out to be more complex to remove than anticipated.

“For what it’s worth… I’m glad you seduced me.” He received a humorous bite on his lip for his impudence.

The embers of the hearth had died, but the fire in his heart was ablaze stronger than ever.

* * *

Clarus turned to stare when Cor arrived to the guard room. “It’s midsummer and you’re dressed like you intend to go wage war against Niffs in the northern border during winter time.”

Cor said nothing and adjusted the woollen scarf around his neck. He was frozen to the very bones and shivering from an unnatural cold. Minor hindrances aside, his time with the ice goddess was well worth the side effects. Much to his joy Gentiana had decided to stay another week in the Citadel to “study ancient Lucian history” – as if she hadn’t lived through such times and didn’t know every historical fact in detail – claiming there was still time before she would be needed in the Fenestala manor. He was already looking forward to the end of his shift.

 _“Where do you intend to stay tonight?”_ Cor had asked while escorting Gentiana to the library before starting his day.

Her lips had quirked with a playful grin. _“Take a guess.”_

_“Based on past experience you’ll go to your assigned quarters and sneak into mine in the middle of the night.”_

The short hairs in the back of his neck had stood erect when she invaded his personal space and whispered in a rather sultry voice in his ear: _“Correct. Name your prize.”_

Cor snapped out of the brief daydream when he felt a warm palm on his forehead for the second time that week.

“Reaper, Cor! Have you been His Majesty’s target for blizzard casting practise or did you take a nap in a freezer?”

“More like slept with a freezer”, Cor muttered into the thick fabric of his scarf while keeping his features carefully neutral.

**Author's Note:**

> This story’s very loosely tied to Hardcor Romance, but since I didn’t realise how young Cor was when I wrote that fic (he was 18 before Regis was crowned), his attitude and romantic relationship with Gentiana is slightly different to this one.


End file.
